


Wine and Shit to Eat With Wine

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy doesn't believe in soulmates, but he does believe in lucky chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine and Shit to Eat With Wine

**Author's Note:**

> I saw something on Facebook that said: Somebody left a grocery list in this cart that says "wine and shit to eat with wine" so I'm pretty sure my soulmate is out there.

“Have you got the wine?” Bellamy asks her over the phone.

“Yes,” Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Have you got the shit to eat with wine?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Clarke replies exasperatedly.

“Okay, I’ll be over soon.” He hangs up and Clarke settles herself on the couch to await his arrival, the coffee table laden with chips, cheese, crackers, dip and other snacks, complete with two very large glasses and two bottles of wine. Raven’s out for the night so Clarke has invited Bellamy over so they can get drunk and talk shit while Netflix plays in the background. Not _too_ drunk though, she’s come dangerously close to telling him how she feels about him before, when she’d had a little too much vodka. So if she wants to keep their friendship in tact she needs to keep it to a maximum of three glasses.

Bellamy arrives twenty minutes later and she hands him a half full glass when he plonks himself down next to her on the couch.

“You call this a glass, Clarke?” he asks in faux disappointment. “Give me that bottle.” She hands him the bottle and he fills his glass almost to the brim. He goes to pour more into Clarke’s glass but she covers it with her hand.

“Just let me get through this first,” she snorts.

“Suit yourself. What are we watching?”

“Serendipity,” Clarke tells him, playing the movie.

“I love Kate Beckinsale,” he grins settling in, nice and close so Clarke can smell his aftershave. She tries to focus on the movie.

“See, now, this shit I could believe in,” Bellamy says about half way through the movie. He has his head in Clarke’s lap now and he’s downed about four very large glasses of wine. He thinks he’s good at holding his alcohol but he’s really not.

“What shit?”

“Serendipity,” Bellamy says. “I mean, soulmates are total bullshit. You know the whole concept that there’s one person out there made especially for you. Total bullshit,” he repeats, slurring his words slightly. Clarke is significantly less drunk and she smirks to herself.

“Total bullshit,” she agrees.

“But serendipity… I mean, I know some people believe in destiny and fate and all that shit. Everything happens for a reason. Whatever. But I think it’s much more likely that life is just a series of accidents and sometimes they just happen to work out in your favour, you know?”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees. She doesn’t think much of the idea of soulmates either. But if she did, Bellamy would definitely be hers. But she also likes the idea that somehow the stars just all lined up, for once in her life, and gave her him, purely by accident.

“Am I making sense?”

“Yes,” Clarke laughs. He’s so _serious_ about the whole thing and it only makes her love him more.

“I wasn’t destined to meet you, Clarke,” Bellamy says. “But by some lucky chance I did.” Clarke’s heart stops, and she opens her mouth to say something. What, she’s not totally sure. But by the time she thinks of something, he’s already asleep.

“I’m really glad I met you, Bellamy Blake,” she whispers. “I don’t know if it’s fate or luck or what. But I do know I love you. Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to tell you.” She gently brushes his curls from his face and kisses him on the forehead before turning her attention back to the movie.

She lets him sleep on her couch that night and when she wakes up she finds him rattling around in her kitchen.

“Do you have eggs?” he asks.

“No.”

“Milk?”

“Uh… no.”

“Bread?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re a mess, Griffin,” Bellamy chuckles. “What did you even buy when you went shopping last night?”

“Wine,” Clarke grins.

“Like I said, a mess,” Bellamy shakes his head.

“How can you judge me when I know the only thing you have in your pantry is a box of poptarts?” Clarke points out. “And let’s be honest, you’d be having wine for breakfast if you hadn’t drank it all last night.”

“Point taken,” Bellamy laughs. “Well, since I drank all your wine I will save the day and go and get some breakfast foods,” he says, heading towards the door.

“Uh, Bellamy?”

“Yeah?”

“Shoes,” she nods to his feet.

“Right,” he grins, grabbing his shoes.

“Now who’s the mess?” she calls after him as he slips out the door. She’s grins to herself like an idiot, thankful there’s no one around to witness her hopeless crush written all over her face. Or so she thinks.

“Pathetic,” Raven says, walking into the room, startling Clarke from her love struck haze.

“Shut up,” Clarke mutters.

“I take it you still haven’t told him how you feel?” Raven asks, rummaging around the kitchen for some coffee.

“No. It’s not the right time,” Clarke declares, though she and Raven both know she’s _never_ going to tell him.

“What are you waiting for? Some kind of sign?” Raven scoffs.

“Would you just leave me alone?” Clarke huffs. “I’m perfectly happy pining and wallowing in self pity.”

“If you say so,” Raven shrugs. “Do we have any food?”

“Bellamy just went to get some.”

He’s gone maybe half an hour, and he’s grinning from ear to ear when he returns. He carries the groceries to the kitchen and sets them on the bench. Clarke and Raven follow him and Raven begins rifling through the bags for something to eat.

“Remember what I said last night about soulmates?” he says.

“Do _you_ remember?” Clarke asks suspiciously.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“I beg to differ.” Bellamy just scoffs at her.

“ _Anyway_ , I take it back. My soulmate definitely exists,” he says, still grinning.

“You met your soulmate?” Clarke says, trying not to sound too heartbroken. How is it that he’d been gone from her apartment only thirty minutes and in that time whatever slim chance of them being together there was is has disappeared?

“Well, not exactly,” Bellamy shrugs. “I found this shopping list in the basket I was using.” He pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket and holds it out to Clarke, but Raven snatches it first. “I still think don’t think soulmates are real, but if I had one it would be the person who wrote that note.”

“Wine and shit to eat with wine,” Raven reads, and then looks up at Clarke pointedly. Clarke’s face colours and her stomach drops. Raven hands Clarke the note and saunters from the kitchen, leaning into Clarke’s ear as she passes.

“Looks like a sign to me,” she whispers, then leaves the room and shuts herself in her bedroom. Clarke looks down at the note in her hand, her own handwriting staring back at her.

“What was that all about?” Bellamy asks.

“Uh, Bellamy?” Clarke says. “I know you don’t really believe in soulmates. But do you still believe in serendipity?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bellamy nods. “You think it’s serendipity that I found this note?”

“It could be,” Clarke bites her lip nervously.

“But I don’t even know who wrote it,” he says.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says. It’s now or never. “I wrote this.”

“You did, huh?” Bellamy muses, and he doesn’t look overly surprised. In fact, the mischievous glint in his eye says he may have known the whole time.

“You knew?”

“Maybe,” Bellamy grins, not looking even a little sheepish.

“You asshole, what are you trying to do?” Clarke scowls, hitting him in the arm softly.

“I was _trying_ to get you to admit that you’re in love with me,” he says. “But apparently my poker face isn’t great.”

“I’m not in love with you,” Clarke denies.

“Yes you are.” He steps closer to her.

“No, I’m not.” He takes another step towards her, until his chest is almost pressed against her. She looks up at him defiantly.

“Yes you are,” he whispers, and then he kisses her, and brushes Clarke’s denial off her tongue with his own.

“Okay,” she manages to mutter somehow through all the kissing. “Maybe I am.” Bellamy chuckles and pulls away.

“I heard you last night,” he says. “And I wanted to tell you I feel the same, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. Then I found that shopping list… and well. Like you said, serendipity.” He shrugs.

“I guess luck is on our side,” Clarke smiles.

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees, kissing her softly again. “I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t know your handwriting.”


End file.
